When you're a nobody, nothing backs the force of what you say — so you have to speak coherently and get the other person to agree. (Even with backing, it should be that way.)
Sounding vaguely impressive and leaving the rest to the listener's imagination isn't desirable. People used to that kind of talk sometimes leave so little room you can't even ask "so what do you mean?" Japanese is already high-context; even without coherent logic people can often catch the nuance — so you need to check your own words as much as you can.
Years ago at work, when I told my boss my thinking, if it wasn't coherent I got grilled hard — often. That was fair, and whenever I shared an idea I had to speak carefully under tension.
Even lining up evidence so I wouldn't be dismissed as not worth hearing, my weak spots got nailed every day — until one day I was told, "I think that's exactly right."
In another scene I don't remember clearly — a plan had fallen through and I was stuck — I shared my thought and heard "That's right."
I was very happy inside then, but I'm not saying those stories prove I was talented. Looking back, I strongly feel that having coherent, logically sound speech recognized by someone else is a very important experience.
Going further back, I had a similar experience as an elementary school student.
Around fifth grade we had a homeroom sharing impressions of sports day. My role was to stand in front, ask each classmate for their impression, and write them in a notebook.
When I asked one classmate, they said: "When we did tug-of-war, my hands hurt, so it was fun."
I said: "Not 'because my hands hurt' — maybe 'even though they hurt'?" It was less a logic fix than a particle correction.
Looking up, many classmates stared blankly. Maybe they got it but thought it wasn't worth correcting, or weren't really listening. Either way, no reaction.
Feeling awkward, I was about to ask the next person — when the class teacher said quietly, "Just now, XX (my name) was right."
What surprised me more than the words: that teacher disliked me a lot then (I was probably cocky), and often used corporal punishment and snide remarks — so the fact they backed my comment shocked me.
I didn't feel joy then, but I strongly felt: even someone who dislikes you will recognize what's correct as correct. (That attitude is probably why I was disliked for being cocky.)
It's a small event, but I still remember it clearly as an adult — so it must be one of the formative experiences that made me care about how I speak.
Of course it isn't only events like these — awareness of speech also depends on how parents raise you.
My mother wasn't especially an education-obsessed mom, but as a kid I often got scolded: "What's the subject? When? Who?" Incomplete sentences brought quick anger. As I wrote at the start: don't lean lazily on Mom's imagination.
Not full 5W1H, but subject and predicate were checked strictly. It felt harsh then, but looking back I'm glad.
Whether anyone's listening or not, disciplining your own speech matters — I wrote this remembering the past.
© 2020 ZUUHE